


The Gift

by sunlitwitch



Category: Ebon Light (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gift Giving, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 04:15:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21207227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunlitwitch/pseuds/sunlitwitch
Summary: Duliae wakes on his birthday to a scavenger hunt. He solves riddles, finds clues and ultimately retrieves his gifts—even as they're hidden in the most unexpected places.





	The Gift

With such little sleep to speak of, it was a pity he’d missed the sunrise. It’d been work all night, followed by a pensive early morning. There were a set of Gha’alian artifacts—small remnants of a failed expedition—recently uncovered by Lalari traders, but it’d been difficult to secure the arrangement. Several bids had been made with no clear answer. Duliae suspected he knew precisely his competition, but the issue was that the opposing bid had proved elusive. Someone for once, was offering what he could not. All he needed was to discover what that certain thing was in order to overtake it. Clearly, he had some digging to do.

The dull ache from his leg radiated up to his hip as he rose from his chair in the study. Sitting for too long was an unfortunate reminder of his age, which brought him to another mixed conclusion. This morning heralded his birthday, a fact of which he was compelled to celebrate. Perhaps it was best that the part was to be held at his estate, he thought dispassionately. At the very least, those attending might yield some answer to current affairs, if not a welcome distraction.

The pleasant aroma of his house was a comfort; it was the scent of deep, old wood and well-kept fabrics. Much to his taste, there was also the music of breakfast, reliable as an old clock. It was an old ritual—to rise, unslept and to return to his chambers for a brief refreshment. At least he would emerge seeming a new man and that was all the better. It was the seeming that mattered to most.

Still, as he passed the door toward the end of the hall he could catch something different; the perfume of incense. Duliae enjoyed a private smile. Alenca had made her living space much her own in these recent days; she’d firmly announced she was redecorating with her stipend from the Forces and that no—he was in no way to make suggestions. Last he’d seen, the walls were a deep auburn, the floor now furnished with additional carpets and at the heart, the four-poster bed had been adorned with a sort of red, diaphanous fabric. All done herself. There was that smell of smoke curled against steel, spiced and fragrant. He inhaled deeply once, sighing it out again. With her, there was always some surprise to look forward to.

Duliae for a second considered knocking. In part, to see the room in the daylight and in part, to see the woman herself. It would be a welcome change of pace from business drudgery. Before he could finish however, the door opened. She nearly walked into his standing there. The two fixed each other was a kind of stunned silence, hers of surprise and his, of scarcely concealed amusement.

“Good morning,” she said softly. “Were you expecting me?”

Duliae offered a hooded smile. “Ah, well.” He replied, taking in the embroidered vest and billowing trousers she wore, both of which were so clearly new. “I was on my way to the garden, actually.” Yet another misdirection, one of many. But also, an opportunity. “Perhaps you’d be interested in having a walk?”

Alenca blinked twice and it was then that he noticed the strap over her shoulder, a bag positioned somewhat behind. “Ah, actually…” She began. “I was headed that way myself. But I’m afraid I’ve some work to do out there. Perhaps we can meet a bit later on?”

Duliae gazed at her with interest. She was clearly hiding something; some selfish part of him hoped it was on his behalf. “That’s quite alright, then.” What work would she have to do out in the garden? Meditate, perhaps, though it was just as easily done in her room. His eyes narrowed, but he still bore that same smile. “Let’s do that. I hope you’ll excuse me for a time.”

He managed a few steps before she heard her call out, softly. “Oh, and Duliae?”

Duliae turned, expecting her to say it. “Happy birthday,” she whispered. There, he could see the light painting her from behind, the auburn of her hair turned to blood; it was sparkling in her freshwater eyes.

He felt something move in him at those words. It’d been threading together for some time, building into a desire and need that so far he’d only allowed himself to observe. In moments like these however, it managed to catch him right in the chest. “Thank you,” he said in a moment of unguarded sincerity. Duliae inclined his head and turned, to perhaps to turn also from that feeling. It felt right, but was not the time. He still needed space to think on the implications.

Just a few more steps brought him past the kitchen. It wasn’t much further to his own room, past the foyer and the meeting area. He passed some of the staff on the way. Mercifully it was far too early for either Skylar or Ernol, the latter of which who’d stayed the night. No, he needed the time. Just to be alone, even if the image of her standing in the doorway still teased at his mind.

“What are you planning?” He murmured, smiling. 

Later on, he did in fact not meet her again. The fact seemed to bother him. She was suspiciously absent from breakfast, though the others were very much there. Finally, when his curiosity got to be too much, he resolved to visit the garden. Perhaps the answers were out there, waiting to be discovered.

The sun was in its full glory in the sky. It took mere moments for him to place that beneath a tree, on one of the sitting areas she’d left a book and something gleaming, or so he presumed she had. Yet it was unlike her to scatter her belongings. Chances were they were Skylar’s, though the maids were typically good about collecting the trail she often left behind.

Within a few feet he could tell that tucked under the edge of the book was a note. The sparkling object was a silver necklace, though it bore no jewel. Instead, upon the pendant there were old engravings. At a glance, they seemed to be Edriceal.

On the note, in her inimitable flourish, Alenca had written:  
“On such as this, a precious day,  
where those who seek may find  
some treasures three and where they lay  
in clues yet left behind.”

Duliae couldn’t contain it, not really. He laughed; a low, delighted sound. She’d left him a scavenger hunt. The rational part of him knew there was work to be done, but he supposed it would have to wait. She had him invested. There was only to play along.

He took the book in hand. It was freshly bound. Upon inspecting a few of the pages, he didn’t find anything relevant to the search. However, it was clearly a gift; they were the parting memoirs of a knight, who had lived some time ago from what it seemed. The man had been taken by some wanderlust and the pages chronicled his exile and his travels. Duliae hummed, tucking it under his arm. She certainly had a bit of taste.

Then, onto the necklace. He thumbed it, eyes narrow. His finger happened upon a groove toward the edge of the raised center and to his wonder, it clicked open. “I see,” he whispered, grinning. It was a locket. Of course it was.

Staring back at him was a note with a riddle tucked inside.

“Oh iron and fire and wood  
the well-traveled can live without  
yet all have it, or so they would  
if only with walls about.”

It was either the kitchen or the hearth, then. Not a particularly complex riddle, but an extraordinarily cute one. Duliae noted that she’d written it in Gha’alian—because of course she had—and made a small sound of contentment. Perhaps he’d be giving her some new assignments in the future.

One trip to the hearth later and he felt positively young. Poking at unburned logs, picking up decorations. He even moved one of the framed portraits to see if she’d stuck anything on the wall. In some way he knew he how he must have looked, but that too was part of the fun. It was occasionally entertaining to have people question his sanity.

It was the kitchen however, that yielded results. There on the table (how she managed to avoid him earlier was a point of interest) sat a steaming cup, a bottle of port and a small velvet pouch. There was a note near the bottle that read, “for later” and a note near the cup that read “for now.” Duliae sighed happily, picking the drawstrings of the bag from their knot. Inside were several plush petals, dried to their curling tips. 

“Yuaslan tea,” he whispered. Shamelessly, he brought it to his nose and drew in a deep breath. The scent was heavenly; like a fresh spring in the mountains. Just a bit of it in hot water was said to stimulate a modest amount of euphoria, good for waking the mind in the morning. “Where on earth did you find this?” He asked her, though she wasn’t present to hear. 

“First you’re turning portraits, now you’re talking to yourself.” Ernol said. “Do I even want to ask what you’re up to now?”

Duliae turned to find his best friend leaning against the doorframe, wearing an incredulous expression. He hummed. “I’m enjoying a gift,” he replied, happily. “It’s quite involved. Anyway, it’d be a shame to let this go cold.”

He pulled the cup from the saucer and behold—there it was! The next clue. “Had to make sure I drank it, I see.” Duliae chuckled. “I hope you’re not planning to poison me, though I admit I’d be impressed.”

Ernol stood there, nonplussed. “I think I’ll be going now,” he said, slowly removing himself from the threshold. Duliae gave a sound of acknowledgement, not turning from the cup. The woody taste was modest but divine. It left feeling of the soft warmth beneath his tongue and a chill ran over his temples. This gift was precious—in fact, he was reasonably certain it was one of the best gifts he’d ever received.

“Four feet, yet never walking  
it’s where the message starts  
for the student and the master—  
here both may find their heart.”

Duliae clicked his tongue in mirth. The desk, which meant the study. She was leading him in a circle, which was amusing somehow. He moved to place the bottle of port onto the shelf when he saw another note, stuck to the underside of the bottle.

“I love you, Duliae. Happy birthday.  
—A”

The moment hung there in time. The light from the windows, the scent of the tea and the weight of that feeling now recklessly coming to the fore. He could count every single heartbeat. Somewhere beyond the sill, a lark played its song to the daytime sun.

Perhaps it was that melody that brought on the insight. Perhaps it was the tea. Stunningly brilliant, extraordinarily beautiful and wonderfully inventive; Alenca was the gift. Her heart, by chance placed on the end of a bottle was the risk she’d chosen. Had he not simply picked it up, it might’ve strayed then onto the party, left to be passed over and forgotten.

He stole the note from the bottom and tucked it into the pocket at his breast, before placing the bottle onto a shelf. Duliae felt such a welter of emotion, he could scarcely believe it. It was a wonderful, dangerous feeling. It was something he’d not felt in a very long time.

Now, with a kind of driving purpose he went on to the study. The last of his gifts awaited him there and more besides. He passed Skylar in the hallway. She tried to initiate a conversation but he shook his head. “Not now, darling.” He said. She frowned. “Are you so busy that you can’t talk to me for five minutes?” She said, clearly agitated.

“Yes, dear. We’ll speak soon,” he said. He could feel her eyes boring into him from behind, but he ignored it with an air of practiced indifference. It was unfortunate, but likely he was going to hear more than he cared to hear about it later on.

The study was left open just a bit. It was some artifact of Alenca’s passing. He smiled, pulling the door open. There didn’t seem to be much, but at the center of the desk there did seem to now be a paper he didn’t immediately recognize. Duliae made his way toward it, grudgingly; he was almost sad to end the game so soon.

The paper. He took it in his hands and scanned the text for just a brief moment before smacking it triumphantly with his cane. “A-hah!” He said, grinning. “So that’s who is outbidding me. Lonre. I had a feeling it was you…”

“It’s always a good feeling when you get a bit of leverage!” She said. “I see you’ve found all of your gifts.” Duliae turned to see Alenca standing in the doorway, smiling. He felt his breath catch in his throat. “I have,” he replied and there was meaning laden in every word. “I must say, I’m in your debt. Where did you find this, exactly?”

Alenca chuckled. “It took a bit of sneaking around and a bit of magic, but I find secrets aren’t too hard to come by.” She tapped the side of her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Didn’t I say that you’d come to depend on me?”

“You did,” he replied. 

“Well, surprise!” She replied. “Happy birthday again, Duliae.” She smiled fondly and there he could see the love he’d nearly overlooked dancing in her eyes. Alenca made to take a step back, out of the doorway.

“Wait,” he said. She paused. “Mmm?” She replied, suddenly looking on in trepidation. “Allow me to thank you,” Duliae said. He took a few steps toward her, smiling. She looked at him with such anticipation that it was heady; it was like intoxication. He stopped, close enough to catch the spice of her perfume and said: “I appreciated all of it. The book, the necklace, the tea… The bottle of port.” He brushed a stray hair from her face. “Perhaps especially the bottle,” he whispered, lower now. Her lips parted, her gaze lidded and he could count every single lash as they curled over her eyes. 

The light was now cast over her shoulder, as if it strained to move past and join her in her radiance. “You should know…” His fingers grazed the tip of her ear affectionately, “that I love you too, Alenca. By far, this was the best gift I’ve ever received.”

She sighed. It was soft, full of magic. They met halfway in space and for the first time, he tasted her, tasted the sweetness of fruit as she’d just had her breakfast; tasted the scent of the incense as it bathed the inside of his nose. He wound a hand around her waist, brokering no inch of space between them. Her heart was pounding against his abdomen, her wandering hands running the length of his back.

They kissed until they were breathless. Again, again and again. She ran her tongue along his bottom lip and he shuddered. These feelings were a kind of voluntary madness; just enough to keep him in thrall. His hands found their way into her waving auburn hair. Finally, he drew back just enough to gaze, not willing to let go. He studied the flower of her irises, now close enough to note every detail on her skin.

“I love you,” she said, more a breath than a whisper. He sighed with affection. “Ah and I love you darling,” he replied. “More than I can say.”

The two of them stayed there for some moments, just gazing into one another. At last, Duliae could hear movement in the corridor. There were voices; Skylar griping at a maid. The enchantment was broken. Business came back to take its due. “In a little while I have to get back to the arrangements,” he said, “though they will have to wait for now. Tell me though: how exactly did you know exactly what to give me?”

Alenca grinned. “Call it a lucky guess."

**Author's Note:**

> It was a challenge to do this from his point of view rather than the reverse, but I really enjoyed the effort! I hope you enjoyed it as well. 💕


End file.
